Twelve
by the ness-ness
Summary: A failed experiment is placed upon the Hunter Gratzner. None know what it does or even if it can be considered human. She is the last one. She is 12.
1. Chapter 1

**the ness-ness: Okay. This is an experiment. If people like it, I'll continue. If not, well…It all depends. I think it's good and so does my beta so here goes nothing….**

**Disclaimer: the ness-ness owns nothing of PB/TCoR so don't go punching her in the face. That's my job.**

**the ness-ness: And how exactly does that work? You have no hands you dork.**

**Disclaimer: I'll find a way. **

**the ness-ness: Oooooo!! I'm so scared!!...NOT! On with the story!!  
**

He looked at the chart on room 12's door.

The experiment within had failed nearly every test given to it. He turned to the men beside him.

"Here's anotherone. Euthanasia is costing more and more with all the failed experiments. We're glad you can take them off our hands." 

One of the men bowed his head in acknowledgement.

"We are honored to have your business," he purred. The other one just stared ahead and said nothing.

The lab manager nodded and gestured to the other to follow him.

"Let's go to my office and you can sign the papers. After that, I'm sure we can find a way to celebrate…" His voice faded, as did his footsteps.

What the small group didn't notice were the bright brown eyes that followed the through the little window of the door.

**the ness-ness: Well, there you have. Tell me if you want more. I'll be happy to oblige. **


	2. Chapter 2

**the ness-ness: Okay. There have been at least 20 hits on this story so I thought why not continue it? I'd like to thank the two people who reviewed. Ya'll know who you are so I extend my heartfelt thanks to you. And I know that there wasn't a lot of meat to that prologue thingy, but that was for a reason. **

**Disclaimer: the ness-ness does not own Pitch Black or Riddick. If she did we would have a problem. Just a small one. Nothing too big. Just death to all of those in her little black book….**

**the ness-ness: HEY! I don't have a little black book!...It's purple.**

Getting all of them into their cryochambers was tricky. They ran about the ship, not used to the noise and strange faces. They had to be backed into corners and injected with tranquilizers. All but one.

She walked behind her Keeper, silent but observant. There had been so many failures that she had to be placed away from them to deal with the overflow.

Without warning, she fell against a cryochamber.

"Hey!!!! Get away from there!" The voice was angry and had a Southern accent. She stood away from the chamber quickly, startled by the yelling.

Blue eyes met brown ones as they looked at each other.

"He's a nasty killer, miss. You nearly touched the lever that lets him out."

The woman took in the man's appearance: the vest, the gun, the blue shirt. Everything about him said law enforcement. But there was something off about him.

Her Keeper rushed over and apologized profusely. She turned around and studied the man in the chamber.

He was big. Big and powerful. She knew just by looking at him that he was able to kill. He was bald, but by choice; she could see the marks that showed where he shaved. His eyes were covered by goggles, wielder's goggles if she had to be specific.

A muscle in the man's face moved, bringing her attention back to him.

Her eyes traveled down his face to the bit in his mouth. Why he had that, she didn't know. Before she was pulled away, she saw his mouth twitch.

The Keeper was mumbling about overprotective police officers and their silly rules as he led her to an empty chamber. He strapped her in, still mumbling. As he backed away, he gave her a shaky smile and murmured something that sounded like "Good-bye."

As she fell into the deep sleep that was drug induced, her thoughts traveled to the big man in the locked chamber. Her thoughts lingered on him until she no longer had any conscious thought left.

**the ness-ness: Better? Huh? Huh? Yeah for me!! I finished this chapter for all of you who reviewed. The two of you! Thanks bunches! Until next time!!**


	3. Chapter 3

**the ness-ness: Hi everybody! Here's the next part. Enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: She owns nothing. Nothing I tell you!!!!**

She was jolted out of her deep slumber by the violent movement of ship. Her chamber was on the ground and the glass was a web of cracks. She kicked at the door but it wouldn't budge.

She told herself not to panic, but her heart beat was becoming rapid and her breathing was ragged. She tried to take deep breaths to calm herself but they did nothing to help.

Her hand searched for the emergency lever, only to discover that it had broken off and lay some where around her waist. Her face became grim and she gripped the lever.

The glass spider-webbed more as she began to pound away with the broken instrument.

She didn't see the shadow moving toward her chamber.

The glass still didn't break; her arms were sore from the angle and she was becoming worn out. The air in the enclosed space was heavy and thick in her lungs; she began to feel drowsy and her eyes started to drift shut.

The door jerked open, nearly being torn off in the process. Hands grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the wrecked chamber.

She gasped, taking deep breaths of the fresh air. She stood there like that for a few minutes before she pulled away from her savior.

"Thank you." Her voice was soft and rough from lack of use.

She looked up at the man before her and her eyes widened. Reflective wielder's goggles stared back at her.

Cursing and banging cut through the silence. She recognized the Southern accent and tried to push the bald man toward a nearby doorway. He refused to move.

She shot him a pleading look; he just raised an eye-ridge. The banging got louder as the Southern man came closer to them.

The man moved with one final push from her. He didn't look back as he left.

As he disappeared into the darkness, the other man rounded the corner. He stared at the woman.

"He came this way, didn't he?" he asked, growling slightly.

She shook her head and pointed in a different direction. The man pushed past her and walked through the doorway, following the goggle-wearing man unknowingly.

She rubbed her arm and made her way through the mess to the outside world.

She placed her hand to her eyes as soon as she was outside. The sun was brighter then what she was used to and it blinded her temporarily.

Her hand was taken away from her eyes by another hand, a bigger one. Blinking, she looked at the black man in front of her.

"Another survivor. This surely is an act of God," he whispered. His voice was warm and rich; she took it in and relaxed slightly. This man wouldn't hurt her; he would only try to help her.

"My name is Imam. Come. The others will wish to meet you." He gently pulled her along, moving toward a group of people she just noticed.

"Imam! You found another one?" asked a woman with short blonde hair. Imam nodded.

"She walked out of the ship. The most damaged part. It is a miracle she is still alive."

The blonde nodded. "Right. I'm Carolyn Fry. This is Shazza." Fry pointed to a woman with bushy black hair.

"This is Zeke." A man with a scowl that seemed permanently etched on his lips.

"Paris." A balding man with glasses and a nervous look on his face.

"Jack." A boy smiled and waved at her.

"Imam's boys." Three young men grinned at her.

"And the man behind you is Johns." She turned and found herself staring into those blue eyes from before.

"Wonder how long you'll last," he growled. She didn't bat an eye at his tone; she was used to it.

"I caught him if any of you care. He's secured and he ain't getting away anytime soon."

Fry looked at him skeptically. "Are you sure?"

Johns turned to her. "Course I'm sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

Imam shook his head at their behavior and muttered something in Arabic. The young woman looked at him and the Muslim man gave her a small smile.

Johns turned his attention from the fuming blonde woman to the brunette that still hadn't spoken.

"What's your name?"

Everyone blinked. They hadn't thought to ask her name; they had been too caught up in Riddick's capture. All eyes turned to the woman; she just looked back at them, her lips tightly sealed. Zeke broke the silence.

"Well? What is it? Come on! We haven't got all day!"

Still she stayed silent. Imam placed a hand on the woman's shoulder and gave it a fatherly squeeze.

"My dear, what is your name?"

Her gaze fell to the ground and she mumbled something.

"Speak up child. We could not hear you."

"Twelve."

Imam raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"My name. Twelve."

**the ness-ness: There you have it folks. She now has a name. WOOT!! R&R please!**


End file.
